


Home Theatre

by MusicalBloodDrop



Series: Vargas Drabbles [3]
Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29982252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalBloodDrop/pseuds/MusicalBloodDrop
Summary: Scriabin watches a movie, and Edgar's there too.
Series: Vargas Drabbles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888294
Kudos: 3





	Home Theatre

**Author's Note:**

> A quiet drabble inspired by rewatching The Matrix lol. Set after Ch. 29 of [Vargas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/49492/chapters/65055)

He didn't understand how Edgar could sleep through this.

Not only was the action sudden and loud when it abruptly returned, but the volume was up higher than it normally would be, and definitely louder than was considerate to his neighbors. Not that he particularly cared, if he couldn't see it in the theatre then the next best thing was to break Edgar's minuscule television speakers. And yet Edgar's breathing was even and soft and pressed in a rhythm against his side, arm casually thrown over the back of the couch as Edgar was curled into himself, leaning against the nook between the back and arm cushions. Away from him, but he was leaning on Edgar in turn, and it was comfortable enough.

Obviously enough to sleep, which he supposed maybe wasn't all that surprising with the amount and quality of sleep they- He. Edgar, managed to get most nights. Scriabin slept entirely peacefully and with no problems or interruptions, aside from when Edgar woke him up with his usual issues and fears that he would have to hand wave away enough that they could both get back to sleep, always so reliant on him...  
So it naturally followed that Scriabin was better rested of the two, and that he would be able to stay awake and watch the movie rather than missing out on it. That was the point of even watching a movie, to _watch_ it, and Edgar couldn't even do that.

He looked over, just for a moment in the lull of a quiet scene for a change, and Edgar's face was relaxed, his mouth slightly open and he was breathing so evenly, no stutters or gasps or holding it in his chest or his stomach, just quietly, easily breathing. He reached over and pulled back a small lock of hair that had shifted over his eyes, and he twitched, something closer to a flinch than Scriabin felt comfortable acknowledging right now, he was doing something _nice_. But he pushed down the indignance and pushed Edgar's hair back into place, and his mouth closed but that was it. He kept breathing, pushing up against Scriabin's ribcage with each inhale, and he looked relaxed, and he slept.

Scriabin definitely did not jump at the too-loud cut back to an action scene, and his eyes did not linger on Edgar's face, because he was watching the movie even if Edgar wasn't. He wasn't going to miss out on it because of Edgar, so he turned his eyes back to the screen, and the arm over the back of the couch moved to play with his hair, idly, without thought, without intention. There was nothing to the gesture, just something to do, and his heart sped up to the action on the screen and not the soft, contented sound Edgar made in a sigh, and he continued to somehow sleep through it all.


End file.
